


we knew from the start, you'd fall apart, cause I'm too expensive

by rockysoda (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom Jim Moriarty, Hate Sex, Humiliation, I'm Sorry, M/M, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rockysoda
Summary: alternative to the scene after Moriarty's trial where he walks free, Jim is able to easily seduce Sherlock, followed by another mad horny encounter. the second chapter is pure smut. I hope you enjoy this as much as I hate myself for writing it. sir Arthur Conan Doyle I'm So So Sorry. title from bury a friend by Billie Eilish.tw: light verbal humiliation
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

Not guilty. 

The words hung in Sherlock's head like a bee sting. How did he do it? But that wasn't necessarily what he was worried about at the moment, why Moriarty walked free. Right now he sat across from him at 221b drinking tea.

Sherlock hated everything about Jim, his mannerisms, his lack of respect for anyone, any time. The worst part was how overwhelmingly attractive he was. Sherlock hated how he often thought of Jim tearing his clothes off, kissing his neck, doing things to him no one else had done before,even if it were with a gun to his head.

“Cable systems..” he muttered. That's how he bribed the jury.   
“Every person has their pressure points, Sherlock..Dear.”  
Sherlock hated when Jim called him that. It made him feel owned, like he belonged to him.  
“No such thing as secrecy anymore, I own secrecy. I own all the people on that jury, and I own you..” He lowered his tea and pointed at Sherlock, which made him jolt his head slightly, wincing at the words as if Jim were reading his mind. 

God I fucking hate you, Moriarty.

“You were advertising with the trial. Showing the world what you can do.”

“And you were only helping. Now they all want me. Suddenly, I'm Me. Sex.” He said with a sly smile.

Sherlock buried his face in his hands and clawed at his neck.   
“You're a fucking phycopath.” He shouted, slamming his hands on the table. 

“Thought that was your job, Sherlock.”  
Jim let Sherlock's name slip through his mouth like an old rhyme. Sherlock wished he didn't let it get to him. He never liked to waste his time. While every inch of Moriarty turned him on in some sick way, to him, Sherlock was nothing more than a normal man. On the side of the angels, as he'd say.

Jim leaned closer to Sherlock so their breaths were felt on each other's faces. 

“I know everything about you, Sherlock.” He said quietly, staring into Sherlock's dilated eyes.  
“Oh, do you.” Sherlock replied in a challenging tone.   
“Oh yes, and let me be the first to have you know-” He leaned even closer, whispering into Sherlock's ear.  
“I probably wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on Earth”, he smiled and slowly licked Sherlock's ear, causing him to let out a soft moan.  
Jim kissed Sherlock's neck, leaving spots of red and blue all over his jaw, working his way down to his collar bone before pulling away. 

Jim noticed Sherlock's now-visible erection through his pants. It was exactly what he wanted, to show Sherlock he was in control of everything, and him being turned on by nearly anything Jim did only helped. 

He walked down the stairs of the flat smiling, with a sort of swagger in his steps, satisfied with his work. Before he opened the door to leave, he left a final remark.

“The fall is coming Sherlock.”


	2. You're just too damn refined, just give it time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim comes to the flat to share an "intimate" encounter with sherlock. this is the second half of the Sherlock smut. again, sir Arthur Conan Doyle is rolling in his grave, I'm so sorry buddy. 
> 
> tw: light humiliation? idk

The sound of Sherlock's violin echoed through 221b as his fingers shook between the frets, easing his mind from the whole thing.  
Jim’s face lingered in his mind like a ringing ear, or like a hangnail. He wanted to see nothing more than to see him gone, defeated, if only he could untangle his web. 

The door opened. The footsteps that began to creep up the stairs were not that of Mrs. Hudson bringing tea or John returning with groceries.   
He had the aching feeling he knew who it was.  
“Miss me?” Jim's voice rang through the room so smoothly,   
“A bit.” Sherlock said, tilting his head, he meant so sarcastically.  
“So..” he placed down the violin and looked back at him.  
“You've come to 'burn’ me then.” His eyes traced the room before settling their gaze on Jim.  
he let out a laugh, sinister, almost painful.  
“No, Sherlock” he shook his head with a smile, made his way closer to him, so their lips were nearly touching,   
“I'm here because I own you, I can ruin you any time I please.” he coarsely whispered into his ear. Sherlock stepped back.

what kind of sick game is he playing at this time  
He thought to himself as his back found itself inches from the wall. 

He hated not knowing. He hated not understanding, especially when it came to Moriarty, who's demeanor was shaped like a question mark, unable to be deducted.  
It was when Sherlock began a sentence, quietly saying “listen” that Jim pulled a gun from his blazer.  
it was unloaded, he had no intention of killing Sherlock today, but he knew the danger turned him on, the combination of the fear of pain the fear of it being by the will of his enemy.   
they moved closer together till their eyes locked in the center of the flat.  
Moriarty noticed Sherlock's pupils were heavily dilated, but said nothing, he was more focused on what was going on below. There was little space between them but enough for him to look down and see the bulge growing in Sherlock's trousers.  
“Listen, Moriarty I know exactly what you're playing at and if you think for a second that I don't see straight through those snake like eyes, through your games…” Sherlock's eyes followed his face, looking confused.  
Moriarty was laughing, this time his head rolled back and cracked a little before returning his gaze to Sherlock.  
“You're hard, Sherlock.”  
He looked down, to where Jim now playfully pointed the gun.  
“Wh-oh-”  
Sherlock was cut off as Moriarty wrapped his hand around his bulge and watched his eyes roll back with moan escaping from his mouth. it took all he had to resist, which was all the more amusing to jim, watching Sherlock tear away, looking down at the floor, back at him, back down to floor and cursing, staring at him with such hatred and shame in his eyes, but deeper than that, Moriarty knew he loved it. 

He walked closer, increasing his pace as he made his way across the room and pushed Sherlock to the wall, again grabbing his hardness, this time rubbing it through his trousers, kissing his neck, leaving blue and purple marks all over as Sherlock struggled to suppress his moans.  
“Fuck, Jim..” He let out, making eye contact for a second. Moriarty smiled and slowly unbuckled his belt and ran his hand over his underwear, starting again from there. He refused to go further, he wanted it to last as long as possible. He knew how much it humiliated Sherlock, how ashamed he felt, feeling dominated and weak.   
“Fuck, Jim, I'm gon-”  
“What's that?” Moriarty teased as Sherlock's eyes remained closed but his eyebrows shook, uneasy yet filled with pleasure.  
“Don’t be shy,” he said in that smooth, nearly sing-songy voice.  
“I-”  
he stepped back and watched Sherlock's face turn red as the white mess spilled through his trousers.

Jim smiled like he'd just created a masterpiece, Sherlock Holmes, at his submission.


End file.
